Beaches and Boardwalks
by jaxon22
Summary: I was broken. I was lost. He fixed me. I was found.
1. Chapter 1

**My first drabble fic. Be gentle. Updates will be every other day. **

**I haven't given up on DitD. This simply demanded to be written first.**

"I asked her to marry me."

I hear him say the words. I hear them loud and clear. He may as well have screamed them at me. A part of me wishes he had. The quietness of them as they leave his mouth, however, tells me how hard they are for him to say, and that just makes everything infinitely worse.

I understand what his words mean, of course, this—this marriage—was inevitable, but I've no idea what to say in response to them.

Right now, there are only three things of which I am certain.

One: I'm grateful I'm sitting down, as I'd surely have collapsed had I not been.

Two: The man sitting at my side—my best friend—has owned my heart since the day he kissed me when I was thirteen years old. My first ever kiss.

Three: That same heart has just broken wide open.

"Say something."

The pleading in his voice brings my eyes up to his face. His beautiful face. The face that I've held, kissed, cherished.

I blink in an effort to clear my head of all the moments we've been together intimately—all seven glorious times—and open my mouth to speak. But I'm without words.

He stands abruptly and paces. His hands go to his hair, to his mouth. His eyes are wide, frantic, and when he looks at me, I know he doesn't see me at all. His walls are back up. His armor is back on.

We haven't been together, in his bed or mine, since he started seeing her three years ago, but I never lost hope. The way he's looking at me now, though, tells me that all hope is gone.

"I love you," I whisper. My voice doesn't sound like my own no matter how true the words are, no matter how many times I've told him before.

He sighs, and his jaw flexes. It's a habit I know well. He's irritated, and knowing that this irritation is directed at me breaks my heart further. In the twenty years I've known him, he's never shown his annoyance. Even on the nights I've been drunk and pleaded with him to come home with me, he's never let it show. Now it resonates through him. He's a stranger, a man I don't know. The man I have adored for sixteen years is a distant recollection, a crumpled photograph worn around the edges of my memory.

"I don't love you," he spits through his teeth. "When will you understand, huh? I never did."

I nod because it's all I can do as his venom crashes over me, burning my skin, scarring and tearing. The motion causes two of my tears to land on the carpet between my feet.

I don't watch him leave. I can't. I only hear the front door slam shut and his car squeal away. Away from me. Away from everything I could—would—have given him.

It's only then, when Sam, my husky, knowing that I'm crumbling, places his wet nose on my knee, that I break down completely.

I break, I shatter, I cry out and I pray that the pain in my heart kills me.

Because only that will give me the peace I truly crave.

**Stick with me. All is not as it appears to be.**

**Much love to lellabeth and GeekChic for being awesome and supportive, and did I say awesome?**

**See you Wednesday.**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks you so much for your reviews. I'm blown away by the reaction to this. Cheers.**

"Tell me you're not leaving because of that asshole." My older brother, Emmett, grumbles and curses at the other end of the phone. "I heard about the engagement."

"No," I lie. "I'm not. I'm leaving because I want to." I glance at myself in the rear view mirror of my car, hating the fact that I can't even be honest with my flesh and blood.

"He was never good enough for you," Emmett states. "He only cares about himself and getting his hands on his father's money. This isn't about you. You know that, right?"

I do know, but I'm not sure that makes the pain of the situation any easier to bear.

"Come and stay with us," Emmett continues. "Rosalie would love to see you. The kids would too."

I smile. I miss my niece and nephew. I love them dearly, but I need to be on my own. I have so much to think about, to reassess, and I can only do that in one place.

"I'll be at the beach house," I tell him. "I need to . . . I'm so lost. I need to find myself again, Emmett."

My brother sighs. "I know."

"I'm leaving after work. I'll call you when I get there," I promise.

Maria, my partner at the veterinary practice I own, is just as unforgiving when I tell her the reasons behind my early vacation plans.

"I never liked him," she says, resolute. "He doesn't deserve you. You're far too gorgeous to wait around for a man like that."

I smile despite the fact that I don't believe her. "So you'll be okay?" I ask. "You don't mind my taking off?"

No matter how much _I_ need to get away, if _she_ needs me, I'll stay. I love my work as a vet, and the guilt I have for wanting to get away is palpable. Nevertheless, I know if I don't leave and take the time to clear my head, I'll be of no use to anyone, least of all Maria. I'm broken, and I need to fix myself.

"Honey." She laughs loudly. "When was the last time you were off work?"

I frown because I honestly can't remember.

"Exactly," she bellows. "Besides, I have the new student starting Monday who can deal with all the shitty jobs. Any other problems and I'll call in all my favors." She winks and flicks her long black hair over her shoulder. I chuckle and shake my head. I don't even want to know what kinds of favors she's owed.

After a long day, I pack Sam and two bags of stuff I grabbed from home into the back of my truck and send a quick text to Emmett telling him that I'm leaving.

His reply is quick and succinct: I hate that he's making you run.

I'm not running, I reply.

But we both know I'm lying.

**Much gratitude and appreciation to Lellabeth and GeekChic. I luff you guys muchly.**

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**See you on Friday!**

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	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks again for all the reviews. I love that this little fic is keeping you guessing.**

The beach house smells of musk and cold when I arrive late Friday night. I open a couple of windows and the French doors that lead from the decking down to the beach in an effort to air the place out. It's been too long since I've stayed here, but it's hardly changed.

Sam runs amuck, barking happily at the waves, clearly reveling in the freedom he finds in the moonlight. I can't help but envy him and his carefree gallops up and down the sand.

Despite the July heat, the house is cool at night. With food in both our bellies, I light a fire for Sam to curl up to and run myself a bath. With a glass of wine on the lip of the bathtub, I try to relax and empty my mind of all the clutter I've hoarded over the last twenty years.

As much as I try not to, I see his face behind my lids. At first, he's beautiful. He's above me, moving inside me, hands touching me in ways that set my skin on fire, telling me he needs me more than air.

But then I hear his voice, acid and hating, as he tells me he's never loved me. His face is brutal and determined, and it kills me all over again.

I sit up, gasping for air, water spilling onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. My face is soaked from bath sweats and tears, and I groan helplessly into my palms. I cry.

And I cry.

After a restless night and a breakfast of coffee and a bagel, I set off with Sam down the beach, throwing sticks that he finds from God knows where. The two tennis balls I've brought are dismissed as being far too unexciting in comparison. He runs through the surf, soaking his beautiful grey and white fluff and fur, shrinking at least two sizes as he does. I laugh when I spot a huge black lab, bouncing over, tongue lolling and tail whipping through the air. Sam crouches, waits for the lab to come closer, then sets off at a dead run, with the lab hot on his heels.

"Ozzy!"

I look down the beach to see a tall, lean figure gesticulating wildly towards the lab, who ignores him in favor of playing with Sam. I laugh as the two dogs bound up and down the sand, oblivious to anyone else, including me.

"Ozzy, you stupid dog."

The figure approaches, and as the sun reveals his features, I am momentarily dumbfounded.

"Damned dog," he says with a wide grin. "He ignores me for the sheer fun of it, I'm sure." I watch as the lab barks and jumps at Sam. "Don't worry. Oz's a harmless goofball."

I smile. Truthfully, it's the only thing I can think to do when his clear and expectant emerald eyes meet mine. He's tall, too, with hair that seems to stick up in every conceivable direction. He's wearing a blue t-shirt that clings to a chest that is neither too big nor too small. His forearms all the way up to his sleeves are covered in ink of breath-taking colors and designs, and, as he turns to face me, I notice the sun glinting off several piercings in both his ears and his face.

"You're not from around here," he states with a curious lift of his unornamented eyebrow.

I shake my head. "No. I'm staying at my parents' beach house. I haven't been here in a long time."

"Yeah," he says. "I figured." His eyes dart up and down my body. "I'd definitely have remembered seeing you."

I startle at his words and the soft smile that follows them. "Well, enjoy your stay," he offers abruptly with a wave towards the house. He turns to go. "Hey." He peers at me over his shoulder. "Do you walk your dog at this time every day?"

I shrug, and I instantly feel like an idiot, an idiot who should have had a conversation with a hairbrush before leaving the house. And dammit all to hell, I'm wearing my sloppy beach clothes, not my nice ones.

"Well, I do," he says in response to my shrug. "I'll be here. Same time tomorrow. Maybe I'll be lucky." He smiles again, winks, and turns from me. He whistles loudly and Ozzy immediately runs after him, tongue damn near dragging across the sand.

I watch as the black lab and his owner make their way back up the beach, leaving both Sam and I utterly perplexed.

**Love and booby shakes to lellabeth and Geekchic.**

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**See you on Sunday!**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again for all your kind words. **

I don't see the mystery dog walker again. For two days, I walk with Sam, pretending like I'm not searching the dunes for a tall, handsome stranger and his giant dog. By the end of the third day and still no sign, I resign myself to the sofa with a huge tub of ice cream and a movie that I know will bring me to tears.

I continually glance at my phone, wanting, wishing for heartbreak to call or text. Never have we gone so long without speaking to each other. As much as he's crushed my heart, he's also my best friend, and I miss him. I pick up my phone and scroll to his number. I look down at Sam who's eyeing my warily.

"Okay, okay," I grumble. I exhale and go to my photographs instead. There are so many of the two of us. We look so happy. I _thought_ we were so happy.

With a huge spoonful of Cherry Garcia shoved into my mouth, I quickly press Maria's number and lie back on the sofa.

"Well, I'm glad it was me you called and not that fuck wit," she says without greeting.

I laugh around my spoon and moan in apology.

"Let me guess," she continues. "Ice cream and a chick flick."

"Am I that predictable?" I grimace and put the tub of ice cream on the floor.

"No, sweetie." Maria's voice softens. "You're heartbroken. It's allowed."

I close my eyes. "Yeah."

We make idle conversation. I ask about work, and she asks what I've been doing with my time. I tell her I miss the practice, and she scoffs. She threatens me with death should I even think about coming back so soon.

"Get out," she orders. "Seriously, get out tonight. See the sights. Go take a walk on the boardwalk. Go have a meal. Just get out there, honey."

I know her intentions are good, but the thought of leaving the house causes my chest to squeeze in anxiety.

"Please," Maria whispers. "You need to do this for you."

I wipe at my eyes and nod even though she can't see me. "Okay."

The boardwalk is packed. Families, groups of friends and couples cram the place. The sounds of music and laughter fill the air and mix with the smell of fried chicken, funnel cake, and beer. I keep my head down and my hands in my pockets as I wander. The anxiety has died down, though it hasn't disappeared. Still, Maria was right. I needed to get out. My lungs feel bigger. I can almost breathe out here, despite the crowds.

I glance up to see a bar at the end of the boardwalk—Black's—and realize I could kill for a drink. I hold the door open for a couple who smile in thanks and make my way inside. What I see surprises me. It's clean and airy and nothing like the name would suggest. Easy listening music plays from a huge jukebox in the corner, and the sound of billiard balls smacking into one another echoes off the pine wood walls and floor.

"Well, well," a voice comes from my right. "I wondered when I was going to see you again."

I spin to see my mystery dog walker, grinning at me from the other side of the bar with the clichéd towel thrown over his shoulder.

"You work here?" I ask in confusion.

He glances around himself. "I sure as shit hope so. I own the place."

"Oh."

I try hard to ignore the way his eyes trail up and down my body as well as the way my stomach twists in undeniable pleasure when they do.

"You here for the position under me?"

I cough. "Excuse me?"

He grins, causing the ring in his bottom lip to catch the light. "The bar staff position. I'm looking for someone to cover Leah while she's on maternity."

I follow the lift of his chin to see a very pregnant woman wiping down a table. She waves and smiles at me.

"So you up for it?"

I run a hand through my hair. "I'm not here for work. I'm here for a beer."

He clicks his tongue. "Too bad," he says, grabbing a bottle of Coors from the fridge. He pops the cap and places it on the bar. "We could use a pretty face like yours around here. Isn't that right, Mike?"

Mike, who appears to be a three hundred pound tattooed biker with a handle bar moustache sitting at the bar, smiles at me. "Sure is."

I shift from one foot to the other and jump when I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Don't let these guys bully you," Leah says. She guides me to the bar and places the cold Coors bottle in my hand. "It's three nights a week, maybe some days. You worked a bar before?"

I shake my head, glancing at my mystery dog walker. "No. I'm a vet."

"Perfect!" he shouts. He walks over. "We've never had a vet working here before."

I stare at his face, all hard lines of sculpted jaw and Romanesque nose. "I'm here to get away," I tell him. "To get away—to get away from . . . I mean, I'm on vacation."

"Vacation?" he asks quietly. He leans his decorated forearms on the bar and looks at me. Really looks at me. His green eyes penetrate me so deeply I can hardly breathe. He knows. Just by looking at me, he knows why I'm here. He knows that I'm a broken-hearted coward who's run away. "That vacation got a name?"

I swallow and take a deep breath. "No," I murmur. "No, he doesn't."

His eyes soften. "So, you want the job or not, beautiful?"

As the refusal dances on the tip of my tongue, I hear Maria's words. _Get out there, honey. Do this for you._ "Okay. Why not?"

"Stupendous." He holds his hand out for me to shake. "I'm Edward."

**Love and thanks to lellabeth and GeekChic.**

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**See you Tuesday!**

**TTFN xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Gratitude for the love. It means the world to me.**

I'm convinced the entire town's in Black's on my first night. I run around, trying not to look flustered while knowing that I'm failing miserably. It's ridiculous. I've performed surgeries on all manner of animals; worked under extreme stress, but the simple task of pouring a drink without spilling it all over myself and/or others appears to pose a major challenge.

Leah has endless patience as she shows me how to make the eight cocktails on the menu and how to pour a draft beer without the head looking like a damned milkshake, which I manage to do repeatedly.

The customers are nice enough with their tips, and the regulars are more than a little interested in who the new person is behind the bar—allowing Edward to introduce me to all of them—but when I drop and smash the third glass of the night, I have the ludicrous urge to cry.

"Hey." Edward's warm, calloused hand touches mine as I reach for the dustpan and brush.

"I'm sorry," I splutter.

He smiles in that way that disarms everyone who encounters it. "Calm down. You're doing great."

I huff a laugh. "I'm not. I'm a fucking putz."

Edward laughs and helps me clean up the glass. "No. You're learning."

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, regretting not putting it in a ponytail. I remember how heartbreak hated my long hair. I'd always tie it back for him. A headache teases at my forehead. I'm hot and bothered and all at once embarrassed because I realize, having him so close, how ridiculously hot Edward looks in his black V-neck t-shirt and black jeans. I glance down at my own black top, jeans, and the worn Converse on my feet and feel hopelessly inadequate.

"You all right?" he asks, concern furrowing his brow. The lights in the bar make his stubble look auburn and the silver ring in his eyebrow glint sexily. I swallow.

"Yeah," I answer, wiping my now sweating palms down my thighs. "Sure."

"Do you have plans tomorrow?"

My eyes shoot to his as the question tumbles from his mouth. "Tomorrow?"

I watch as Edward bites his lip and pushes his hands into his pockets. I've never seen him look like this. He looks so . . . nervous?

"Yeah," he replies. "I have to walk Ozzy. I was wondering if you'd like to join me. I could bring coffee."

He smiles, but I can't return it because this sounds almost like a date and that sounds terrifying to my beaten and bruised heart. I don't know if I can. I barely know the guy standing before me. He's beautiful and carefree, and I'm petrified of the hope that pricks at my skin.

My hesitation whips the smile from his face. "It's okay," he mutters. "I get it. It was just an idea."

I grab his forearm before he can walk away. "I'm sorry." I shake my head by way of explanation. "You just . . . you caught me off guard."

"Yeah, I can see that." He stares down at my hand on him. "You're shaking."

I pull my hand back as though I've been burned. I _am_ shaking. I'm barely in control. I'm a mess. I nod and exhale a shaky breath.

"What the hell did he do to you?" Edward moves closer. His proximity calls for an answer, but I don't reply. The words are stuck in my throat like the shards of glass scattered in the dustpan.

He takes my hand and turns it over. His index finger whispers over the lines of my palm. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a pen. "Go home," he tells me as he writes on my skin. "The bar's slowed down now. Pete and I will be all right."

I stare at him through blurry, tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry."

He smiles. It's soft and demands nothing from me. "You say that a lot." His thumb touches my face, and I realize he's tracing a tear that's falling down my cheek. "You have my number now. If you want to, give me a call, and I'll meet you whenever, wherever."

I look at my hand and see his cell number scrawled across my palm.

"It's just a walk, beautiful," he whispers. "Gotta start somewhere, right?"

**Smooches to lellabeth and GeekChic for their brilliance.**

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**See you Thursday!**

**TTFN xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**You're all awesome. All. Of. You.**

I wait for Edward in the same spot I met him.

Of_ course_ I called him.

I waited two days, but I called him.

The night in the bar was, so far, my lowest point. I made my way home, crawled into bed with Sam acting as my little spoon, and cried myself to sleep. I stayed there for the next twelve hours, eating only chips and raisins until I pulled myself together, had a shower, and sent a text to Edward. As I have come to expect, he was charming and patient in his response, making sure that _I_ was sure.

I am, I replied. Definitely.

I hear a deep bark and look down the beach to see Ozzy bounding towards me. Sam lifts his head from the sand, and his tail begins to wag. He looks at me as if he's waiting for me to break down again. I smile and rub his big head.

"It's all right, buddy. Go play."

As the two dogs reacquaint, Edward approaches with a lazy smile. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of Wayfarers and the shorts he's wearing show off pale, muscular legs. One of which has an epic tattoo that stretches up his shin and around his calf.

"Morning," I say as I offer him the cup of black coffee I've been holding for five minutes. It's not quite an olive branch, but it's the next best thing.

"Thanks," he replies, taking it from me. He takes a small sip. "Perfect."

We begin to walk slowly down the beach. "I hope you'll take that as my apology for the other night," I say with a laugh of embarrassment.

He shakes his head. "Nothing to apologize for."

I look at him askance to see if he's lying, but I see nothing that gives him away.

"I was ridiculous," I confess. "I made a fool of myself."

"No," he says firmly. "You didn't. Believe me, I've been there. I know what having your heart broken is like."

For a brief moment, I want to laugh. Looking at him, seeing him in all his sexy, devil-may-care glory, I find it very hard to believe that anyone could break him. Why would anyone want to? How could anyone treat him with anything but love and affection?

I stare out across the water, watching the dogs run and jump through the waves. "His name's James." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. My throat scratches as his name leaves it. "I was in love with him for sixteen years. He didn't love me back."

Saying it in three sentences makes my hermit-like behavior of the last twenty-four hours seem impossibly trite and altogether dramatic. I realize Edward has stopped walking, and I turn back to see him staring at me with incredulity.

"He didn't love you back," he repeats quietly.

I shake my head. "He's marrying a girl who . . . His wealthy father will approve." The bitterness that laces my words is blatant.

A humorless laugh breaks from Edward's mouth. It sounds like familiarity. It sounds like he knows what I'm talking about. "Bastard."

I toe the sand with my flip-flopped foot. "Yeah."

Edward's shadow appears over my toes. "Do you still love him?"

I keep my eyes on the sand and shrug. Do I still love him? Yes. Part of me still adores him. Do I miss him? Yes. Do I want him to choose me and leave the girl at the altar?

I look up at Edward, taking in the curve of his mouth and the small scar on his left cheek. "He's my best friend," I say. "But he used me. He broke me. I can't forgive that."

"That's not a no," Edward says quickly. Slowly, he removes his shades and pins me with a look that makes my knees weak. "I find myself in a predicament here." His voice is low and is almost lost under the sound of the ocean waves.

"What?" I fumble with the hem of my t-shirt, before crossing my arms over my chest.

"I like you," he says. "A lot."

I hold my breath and wait.

"It's that simple," he continues. "I barely know you really, but I like you, and I'd like to ask you out."

I go to open my mouth, but he moves a step closer to me. With him so near, I have to move my head back to look at him. His coffee-sweet breath washes across my face.

"But I don't want you to freak out like you did at the bar." I flush in humiliation, but he presses on. "I want this to be what_ you_ want too. I don't want to be second best to some prick who doesn't know a good thing when he has it."

He presses his lips together and lifts his hand to my face. The backs of his fingers dance across my cheek, making my eyes roll closed, before he pushes some wayward hair behind my ear.

"It's been a long time since I've done this, so forgive my bluntness. Do you like me?" he asks. The vulnerability that clings to those four words makes me want to kiss him.

"Yes," I admit. "I like you."

The left side of his mouth twitches with a smile. "Then go out with me. Forget James. For one night, let's both stop running and take a chance."

My heart pulses with relief and hopefulness for the first time in weeks. I shiver when Edward's hand trails down behind my ear, my neck and down my arm.

"Will you? Will you be mine for one night, beautiful?"

"Yes," I whisper. "Okay."

**Smooches to lellabeth and GeekChic.**

**Follow me on Twitter: sophiejax**

**See you Saturday!**

**TTFN xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Your theories continue to make me smile. Some are convinced. Others are keeping an open mind. I love all of them.**

I change my outfit three times. I stand in front of the mirror, cursing and grumbling about how diabolical my wardrobe is. Sam lies on my bed, watching me. I can see the amusement in his large brown eyes. If I wasn't so damned nervous, I'd find it amusing too.

After much deliberation, I finally settle on my favorite pair of jeans and a top that Maria says brings out the color of my eyes and makes my chest look 'amaze'. I'm not sure about that, but, at this point, I'll take what I can get. I slip on my Converse because shit, I want to be comfortable, run my hands through my hair, and set off before I can rethink the whole evening. My stomach is doing the Macarena, and my injured heart beats hard and fast.

Edward told me to meet him outside Black's, and he's there waiting for me when I arrive fifteen minutes later. He looks incredible. His hair is styled in an unruly Mohawk, and the red t-shirt and worn dark blue jeans cling to his lines in ways that are both delicious and sinful. He smiles widely when he sees me, and my attraction to him grows exponentially. Parts of me are panicked at the speed at which Edward and I are moving, but other parts continually recite Maria's words about my getting out there and doing things for me.

The latter part, right now, is the loudest.

Edward looks me up and down. "You look . . . great."

I shift from foot to foot, loving and hating his scrutiny. "Thanks. You too."

He shrugs modestly and approaches. "You're nervous."

I nod because there's no point in lying. "Terrified."

"Don't be. It's just us, beautiful." He reaches for my hand.

His eyes ask for permission, and, despite my surprise, I dip my chin in approval. His fingers slot in between mine effortlessly while the dry, calloused feel of his skin against mine is altogether perfect. James would never let me hold his hand, especially not in public. He always said it was 'in case someone saw us', but I know, deep down, it was because he was ashamed of us. Of me.

The way that Edward doesn't even hesitate to touch me carries me far above the boardwalk. I'm flying. Words and breath escape me. I simply squeeze his hand in thanks and hope.

The small smirk that lifts the right side of his mouth tells me he knows what I'm trying to say. "No running," he murmurs close to my ear.

"No running," I repeat.

"Let's go."

The bowling alley is busy, and Edward smiles and waves at various people he knows as we put on our shoes and begin our game. He crucifies me. He's a serious bowling pro, but he wins graciously, even with the nearly one hundred points that separate us. I'm not sporty. I tell him with a wry shrug that I'm happy with my half strikes, thank you very much. He laughs and places his hand on the small of my back as he leads me to the car. His touch is welcome and makes me walk taller.

The restaurant he takes me to is lovely. Our waitress is called Charlotte. She clearly knows Edward, and she flirts with him at every opportunity. That is, until he introduces me as his date and slips his hand over mine on the table. As much as I want to pull my hand away in embarrassment, the look on Charlotte's face keeps it firmly in place. We chuckle quietly when she flounces back to the kitchen with our order.

"You certainly disappointed her," I say as I sip my wine.

He scrunches his face in distaste. "She's not my type."

I grin. "Really? What is your type?"

He leans forward, the candlelight making his shadowed face seem ethereal. "You're my type."

We eat, and we talk. We drink, and we talk some more. He tells me that he has a younger sister, Alice, whom he adores. He opened Black's eight years ago with Leah's brother, Jake—whose name he says with something resembling reverence—and he couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

He found Ozzy on the boardwalk, tied up with a piece of string when the pup was three months old. His favorite color is blue and Edward hates macaroni cheese. I'm enamored just listening to him. His happy-go-lucky attitude is so refreshing. He clearly loves his life, takes everything in stride, and I envy him for it.

It's nearly midnight when he pulls up outside the beach house. He kills the engine, and I sit, motionless, listening to the ticking as it cools.

I keep my eyes on my lap. I can hear Sam barking. "I had a great night."

Edward unclips his seatbelt before doing the same to mine. "It's not quite over. Let me walk you to the door."

I fidget and bite my lip as we approach the house. Sam's barks get louder and more enthusiastic.

"Someone's happy you're home," Edward says with a chuckle.

"Yeah." I pull my keys from my pocket and jangle them nervously.

"It's weird," he says softly. "I feel the complete opposite."

My breath catches in the panic at the back of my throat, and I close my eyes in an effort to hide. "Edward—"

"I'd love to come in, but I know you're not ready," he interrupts. He lifts my chin with two fingers. "Look at me."

I do as he asks without hesitation.

"I had an awesome night," he adds. "It'll be enough to hear you say that we can do it again."

I smile. "Yes. I'd like that. Very much."

"Beautiful," he whispers. "May I give you a goodnight kiss?"

I think I say yes, but I can't remember anything when Edward's lips press against mine. He's so gentle, it's almost chaste. Almost. His tongue dances across my lips, polite and undemanding. I open my mouth, and our tongues meet tentatively. His tongue has a piercing punctuating its middle and I immediately want to feel it all over my body. He groans when I gasp, and fists my top at my hip, sending my lust spiraling.

I tingle and spark.

I wonder if he can feel it, too.

The kiss is quietly passionate. It's sensual and steals my breath. It's nothing I've ever felt before and lasts mere seconds.

But I know I'll remember it forever.

He tastes perfect, all wine, pasta and promises. I sigh when his hand cups my face and I lean into his touch.

With one last peck at the side of my mouth, he pulls back.

"Perfect," he murmurs against my cheek. "Thank you." He takes a deep breath. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

As I watch him leave with my lips still humming from his kiss, two tiny shards of my fractured heart gently fuse back together.

**End of date kisses to lellabeth and Geekchic.**

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	8. Chapter 8

**It's very simple.**

**If you don't like it.**

**Don't read it.**

**To those of you who appreciate writing in all its forms, thank you.**

**Your encouragement and trust in me—without question—means a whole heap.**

The night after my date with Edward, I all but float into Black's, greeting all the faces that are starting to become familiar with a wide smile.

Leah eyes me suspiciously. "You're in a good mood."

I shrug. "Yeah."

That's an understatement. I've barely slept, reliving my evening with Edward. The handholding, the kiss, the way he made me feel—makes me feel. I glance around the bar surreptitiously as I pour Mike a fresh beer, but I can't see Edward anywhere.

"He's not in," Leah says curtly.

"Oh," I reply nonchalantly, although the disappointment curls deep in my stomach. "Will he be in later?"

Leah crosses her arms over her chest, resting them on the very large baby bump she's sporting. "No. It's a family emergency. He said he'd be gone a couple of days."

I frown. Family emergency? I immediately hope Alice is okay. The way he spoke of his little sister, I know he would be devastated if anything happened to her.

But two days pass, and Edward's still not back. I think about texting him, but then I worry that I'm being too clingy. James used to tell me I was clingy. Plus, I realize sadly, Edward has no loyalty or responsibility to me. He doesn't have to tell me where he is or who he's with.

_Oh, God. _

I try halting my mind before it disappears into scenarios that are far too painful to contemplate. I try as hard as I can, but even so, images of Edward kissing and holding hands with people who aren't me start to flash through my mind. They whir and taunt. I'm being ridiculous, I know, but the realization that I care enough about Edward already for the images to hurt as much as they do shocks me into panic.

What if he _does _hurt me?

What if, like James, his words are simply a means to an end?

_What if? What if? What if?_

I pace around the living room, wringing my hands, drinking wine, fretting and unraveling until I exhaust myself and crawl into bed. Sam rests his paw on my leg, seemingly knowing that I need contact—any contact to keep me sane.

No, I assure myself as I stare at the dark ceiling. It's a family emergency. Edward will be back soon enough with his kisses and soft words. He's not going to hurt me. I imagine his face, his smile, and his taste. I wonder if I'll ever experience it again. It's the last thing I think before I fall asleep.

The next day, I wander down the boardwalk towards Black's, trying like hell to keep my shit together. I gave myself a major pep talk in the shower, detailing the evidence that suggests I'm overreacting and worrying for nothing. I know where my fear and vulnerability comes from, and I hate it—I hate _him_—but it's no excuse. Edward has been nothing but nice to me, and I have no reason to think that his intentions have been anything but honest. He's not James has become my mantra, and I repeat it silently as I approach the bar.

A loud, familiar bark has me raising my head. I smile when I spy Ozzy bounding around the boardwalk, but what I see next almost cripples me.

It's Edward.

It's Edward looking beautiful.

It's Edward cupping the face of a girl.

A gorgeous girl.

And he leans in to kiss her. I look away before their lips touch. I place my hand over my mouth in an effort to keep my sob silent.

"Daddy!"

I glance back. A small boy runs over. Edward smiles so wide it damn near blinds me.

_Daddy?_ He's a . . . father?

I grip the wooden handrail of the boardwalk at the same time I slump against it. My eyes blur as Edward picks up the little boy and nuzzles him. They are two peas. There's no denying they share DNA. He wraps his arm around the gorgeous girl—the mother of his child?—and kisses her temple.

It's a tender family moment that rips me in two.

_A family emergency…_

I turn away and stumble through the crowds, needing to get away, to go home, to disappear.

I'm so fucking stupid. _So_ fucking stupid.

James' voice echoes through me. _I don't love you. I never did._

I think I hear Edward call my name, but I keep moving.

It may have been a fleeting whisper on the breeze.

**Nuzzles to lellabeth and Geekchic for being wonderful.**

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**See you on Wednesday!**

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	9. Chapter 9

**Last chapter seemed to ruffle a few crazy feather. Ahem. Moving on.**

A text from Edward punctuates my staggering through the door of the beach house.

_Are you okay?_

I laugh humorlessly when I see those three little words and throw my cell phone hard against the sofa with a yell that is pained and angry. The fucking thing bounces off the couch cushions and skitters across the wood floor. I shout some more; I grab at my hair. I cry and I try to hold myself together. I want to hit something until it feels as useless and broken as I do, and after several hours of this, I seriously start to wonder whether I'm losing my mind. My grip on sanity is tenuous at best. Everything is chaos, including me. Everything hurts, and everything can go fuck itself.

I watch the clock. My shift at the bar started ten minutes ago. I wonder if he'll even notice I'm not there. My cell phone chimes from underneath the armchair, and my heart drops to the soles of my feet. I manage to ignore it for all of thirty seconds before I retrieve it. It's Edward.

_I'm at the bar. You're not. Is everything all right? Please text me back._

I simultaneously feel elated and crushed by his words. Lying on the bed in my pajamas, I throw an arm over my face and allow some more tears to fall. I could have fallen for Edward so easily. Part of me thinks that maybe I already have. I could have treated him so well. I would have been the best thing that ever happened to him if he'd let me, if he'd not lied about . . .

About what? That he has a family he kept a secret, that he has a son and possibly a girlfriend, or worse, a wife? My phone chimes again. I turn it to silent as I read the new text.

_I'm getting worried. Please call._

Reading his concern, my mind starts to doubt the origins of my anger. I've been out with Edward, in public. He knows everyone. Surely he wouldn't be so blatant with me if he _were_ involved with someone else. Leah never said anything, nor Charlotte in the restaurant. I mean, for God's sake, even _she_ flirted with him. Would she do that if he was married?

I press my fingers to my temples, trying to slow the spinning top that is my brain. Maybe it's a huge misunderstanding. Maybe I'm flying off the handle for no reason. Maybe it's all totally innocent.

My phone starts to ring.

It's Edward. I think about answering it, about allowing him to explain himself. I want to hear that I'm mistaken, that I'm silly and saw only what my broken, pessimistic heart wanted to see. Then I remember when I thought the same about James. When I heard whispers of him seeing a girl named Victoria, I dismissed them as nonsense. He loved me. He wanted to be with me.

I'd asked him about it. He denied it. He lied to me—his best friend. The first time I saw Victoria, James had her pressed against the wall of his parents' house. He never saw me. He was too busy fucking his _girlfriend_ to see me.

He never saw me.

I was, just as I am today, invisible.

I wake up to the sound of banging. I roll over to see Sam dart off the bed and throw himself down the stairs. Then he begins to bark. The banging becomes insistent. I crawl out of bed and descend the stairs as groggily as I climbed them.

"Who is it?" I call, rubbing my eyes.

"It's Edward."

I'm suddenly wide awake. I stare at the door, not knowing what to say or do.

"Please," he says eventually with just a hint of begging. "Please. Open the door."

I clear my throat. "It's late. I'm tired."

"I know, but I need to talk to you."

"I have nothing to say to—"

"I know what you saw today."

I close my eyes and press my palm against the wall in an effort to keep myself upright.

"It wasn't what you think. I swear to you."

I clench my teeth, fighting off the urge to open the door and pull him into my arms. "Go home, Edward," I say instead, hating the way the words taste on my tongue. "I can't do this right now."

"I can't leave," he insists. "I can't turn away from this door knowing that you're in there thinking the worst of me."

"Edward—"

"Please, beautiful." I hear a shuffling noise. "Give me a chance to explain."

I look down at Sam, who stares back at me with expectation in his eyes. I swallow, rub my forehead and the tension headache residing there, and reach for the lock of the door.

"**I love that you have challenged our perceptions, challenged what we expect, and forced your readers to open their eyes a little and think about what they are reading. And that you have done it in such a subtle way... forces us to care for the characters first, and then worry about their gender or identity second . . . It's refreshing, and eye-opening to have an author who assumes some intelligence, and some openness, of their readers and asks them to use it."**

**To looie who left this amazing review, thank you for 'getting' what I'm trying to do. You made my day.**

**Love to lellabeth and GeekChic for giving me courage.**

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**See you Friday!**

**TTFN xx**


	10. Chapter 10

**I have the most amazing readers. Thank you. Truly.**

I open the door mere inches. Edward looks like hell. His hands lean on either side of the doorframe, caging me in, his shoulders hunched. His hair is manic, and his eyes are not the sparkling calm green that I adore. They're frantic, fearful. I notice that they dip quickly to my chest, and—realizing I'm dressed for bed—I immediately cross my arms to cover myself, ignoring the excitement that burns my skin under his gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asks, licking his lips.

"Why do you care?" I sound petulant and immature, but I don't give a shit.

"I care," he murmurs. He stands up straight. "I—I wanted—I need to explain everything to you."

"Why?"

He frowns as if confused. "Because you deserve that," he says earnestly. "You deserve to know."

"Yes," I state. "I deserved to know before you took me out on a date, before you kissed me."

"I know," he mumbles towards his feet. "I was—I'm scared. It's been a long time since—and I didn't know if you'd . . . Look, I'll tell you everything, if you let me."

I sigh. I'm torn. Part of me is desperate to hear what he has to say, to squeeze some comfort from his explanation, but mostly I'm exhausted. My fragile heart is weary. I lean my temple against the door and close my eyes.

"I'm so tired," I admit quietly. "I'm tired of being someone's secret."

A loud bang has my eyes snapping open. Edward's hand is flat against the wall where I can only assume he smacked it.

"You're not a fucking secret to me," he growls. "Dammit, if you were mine I'd shout if from the rooftops." He leans close to me; his breath carries the scent of whiskey. "I'm _not_ him."

"I know," I croak, but we both know that's a lie. My ability to see Edward as the affectionate man he is blurs constantly because of how James treated me.

Edward exhales and clasps the bridge of his nose. His exasperation scares me. He's losing patience. How can I expect anything less? He puts his hands on his hips and looks at me. We stare at one another for a wonderful, silent moment before he resolutely holds out his hand.

"Come take a walk with me."

Wrapped up against the wind flying in off the ocean, I walk along the beach at Edward's side, waiting for him to explain. He didn't have to ask me twice. Seeing the desperate hope in his eyes would have had me following him anywhere.

"Angela and I met in college," he starts, keeping his eyes on his feet as they traipse through the sand. "We were good friends. She's beautiful, funny, and smart. It seemed only logical that the next step be a relationship. It's what our families wanted after all." His eye-roll is wry and annoyed. "We'd been together two years when she got pregnant." He shakes his head. "I tried. I tried like hell to be what she needed, what people expected, but even when Ben was born, I knew we were never going to work."

"Why?"

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. It's mournful and makes my heart ache, "Because I loved somebody else."

"Oh."

"I love Angela dearly," he continues. "But not in the way she wants or deserves. We're friends. We always have been. It just so happens we have a son together. I see Ben as much as I can, but it's difficult with Ange living so far away. Plus, she cares for her father. He's sick. Very sick. That's why I left. He's in an ICU, and Angela needed me to look after Ben."

He stops walking and turns to face me. "I'm sorry I left without a word. I should've sent a text, and I would have, but I dropped everything when Ange said she needed me for my son. I told Leah to explain, but . . ." He runs a hand through his hair. "With Leah, it's complicated."

"It's all right," I murmur.

Edward steps closer. "No, it's not." He takes a deep breath that makes his large shoulders lift. "I know what you've been through and how hard you find it to trust, and I want you to trust me. I was an idiot to leave without telling you." His eyes travel over my face. "I like you. Very much. The truth is it's been a long time since I've felt like this about anyone. We've known each other a matter of days, but"—he lifts my hand to his chest over his heart where I feel it pounding—"this is what you do to me."

I gasp.

"You feel it too, don't you?" he asks softly.

My palm presses against his warmth, shaking with the force with which his heart beats under it. "Yes," I admit, as my own heart begins to thrum. "I feel it."

I feel it from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. He's under my skin and deep in my bones. He's everywhere, and for the first time, I'm not scared by it. I want to embrace it, to wrap up in it and finally feel safe.

"Tell me I still have a chance, beautiful," Edward urges, placing his lips close to mine. "I'll do whatever it takes. Tell me you trust me. Please."

I cup his face. "I trust you."

And I kiss him under the moonlight to show him just how much.

"**Troll (/ˈtroʊl/, /ˈtrɒl/): A person who sows discord on the Internet by starting arguments or upsetting people, by posting inflammatory, extraneous, or off-topic messages in an online community, with the deliberate intent of provoking readers into an emotional response."**

**Many smooshy hugs to lellabeth and GeekChic. You make me brave.**

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**See you Sunday!**

**TTFN xx**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you. Your support and encouragement make me smile.**

For the next two weeks, Edward and I are inseparable. We walk our dogs down the beach in the mornings, and I show him around the beach house. He takes me to his favorite places on the boardwalk, and we go on more dates, including one at the movies where he puts his arm around me and kisses me.

He kisses me no matter who's watching.

I'm growing to love his kisses. I love not knowing which one I'm going to get. His soft pecks are almost as good as the languid, tongue-filled, wet ones that leave us both squirming and breathless. His hands wander over me when we're alone and kissing, but he never forces more. I want more, I do, but I haven't been with anyone that way since James, and I worry. I worry that Edward won't like what he sees, that I won't be good enough or give him what he wants.

My trust and confidence is still in tatters, but every touch, caress and gentle word from Edward is helping to sew them—_me_—back together.

"And he owns the bar he convinced you to work in?" My brother, Emmett, sounds unimpressed when I tell him about the man who is beginning to own every part of me. He's nowhere near as enthusiastic as Maria was when I told her. I'm pretty sure her squeals were heard down the beach.

"Yes," I reply with a smile.

"And you like him?"

"I do," I tell him with a smile. "Don't worry, big brother. He's one of the good guys."

"He'd better be."

I smile in recollection of my conversation with Emmett—ignoring the part where he told me about James and Victoria's engagement party—and I watch Edward make his way around the bar, checking that everyone has their drinks and food. It's Leah's official leaving-slash-maternity-slash-baby shower party and Black's is packed. We bar staff have an unofficial night off, with ready-prepared drinks already placed on a large table next to a set of pink balloons and a gigantic diaper cake.

I grin into my glass when I see Edward throwing his head back to laugh at something Mike has said and hold my drink close to my chest in an effort to stop my insides from flying everywhere at once.

"He looks happy."

I turn to see Leah standing next to me, watching Edward just as I am.

"Yeah," I answer. "He does."

Her eyes stay on me, scrutinizing but not mean. "Be good to him."

I blink in surprise. "Of course," I say fervently.

She presses her lips together. "It's been a long time since I've seen him like this, so relaxed, excited. Not since—" She glances over my shoulder. I follow her gaze to see a black and white photograph of Edward with one arm around Leah and the other around Angela—whom I recognize from the day on the boardwalk—while a tall, dark-haired man squeezes them all together in a huge bear hug. They're all smiling widely, looking ecstatic outside Black's.

The small gold plaque beneath it reads Opening Day 2005.

"That's you," I murmur.

"Yeah," she answers. "Edward, Ange . . ., and my brother, Jake." The way she says his name—as Edward did—suggests that he isn't around much, if at all. Her large dark eyes find mine. "Edward has a big heart. Don't make him regret giving it to you." She peers back at Edward as he approaches. "He might seem strong, but inside, he's just as fragile as the rest of us."

"I'll remember that," I whisper before she sets off across the room to speak with her husband, Embry.

Edward smiles and winks at me. "You okay?" he asks, winding a strong, inked arm around my waist.

"Great," I tell him as I place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"What was Leah saying?"

I cock an eyebrow. "Why? Were your ears burning?" He smiles, but it's tense. His eyes flicker to the opening day photo. I rub my palm down his back, feeling the muscles tighten. "She was telling me how lucky I am." The rigidity of his face softens. "I have to agree." I lean in to his ear. "Edward, you look unbelievably sexy tonight."

And he does. The white V-neck t-shirt that he's wearing touches all the places I wish my tongue could and his black jeans hug his ass like a second skin.

His face smolders as it turns to mine, and I'm hot and shaky all at once. He pulls me to him, as close as I can possibly be, and rubs the tip of his nose against my cheek. "Really? You think I'm sexy?"

I smirk. "Insanely."

"That's good. Because I want to ask you something."

"Anything," I breathe, my eyelids fluttering along with my heart

"Would you stay with me tonight?" His stare is heated. "No pressure." His hand drops to the top of my ass and I sigh. "I just want to see if I can win the bet I have with myself."

I smile. "And what bet would that be?"

He chuckles darkly, causing my lust to spike. "I wanna see if you look as good in my bed as I've imagined."

I grip his hip and hold him close; hoping he feels exactly what he does to me. From the way his pupils dilate, I know he does.

"Get ready to pay up, Mister," I whisper. "Because you're gonna lose big time."

I swallow his moan with a languid, tongue-filled, wet kiss.

**Wet kisses to lellabeth and GeekChic. Luff you.**

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**See you Tuesday!**

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	12. Chapter 12

**You're all wonderful. Thank you for being so supportive.**

I'm fidgeting.

I'm sweating.

I'm sitting in Edward's apartment, above Black's, while he says goodnight to his son on the phone.

"You did?" I hear him say as he wanders in with two bottles of beer. He hands me one and kisses me quickly. "That sounds awesome. I can't wait to see it."

I sip my beer and watch Edward smiling as he listens to his son. It's beyond adorable to see him so animated. I stand, unable to keep still, and wander around his sitting room, taking in the artwork and photographs on the wall. I stop at one of Edward and a tall, dark haired, handsome man I now recognize as Jake. They're standing on the beach, bare-chested with an arm around each other. They look so happy. I can practically hear their laughter. The smile on Edward's face is one I see a lot when he's with me. That thought alone makes my chest warm.

Edward chuckles. "Yeah, buddy, I will." I make my way to the sofa and sit, as he continues talking to Ben. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks. Yeah, I miss you too." He glances at me and sighs. "Okay. Yep. Ozzy will love that. When Grandpa's better, maybe. Listen, Ben, I love you. That's right, more than the world. Good night."

He clicks the phone off and stares at it for a beat.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yeah," he answers, moving to sit next to me, stepping around the eight-legged, two-tailed mound that is Ozzy and Sam. "Yeah, it's just hard, you know? When I hear him so excited about things he's doing . . . I feel like I miss so much."

I place my hand on Edward's knee. "How old is he?"

"He's seven, going on forty." He laughs and shakes his head. "Kid could teach me a thing or two."

"You're a good father, Edward," I tell him honestly.

He smiles and looks at me askance. "You know that, huh?"

I nod. "You give a shit. It's more than my father ever did for Emmett and me. That makes you a stellar father in my book."

He watches me. I want him to watch me forever. "I'd like you to meet Ben one day."

I swallow, taken aback. "You would?"

"Of course. You're important to me," he states matter-of-factly. "I've told Angela all about you. She can't wait to meet you."

My heart flies at his words. He's told Angela about me. I'm important to him. Words fail me, because I believe him.

He tilts his head and smiles gently. "You okay?"

"Absolutely," I manage.

"I really like you being in my apartment."

I lick my lips. "I really like _being_ in your apartment."

He places his beer bottle on the coffee table, then reaches for mine and does the same. He shuffles closer and leans in to kiss me. I welcome his lips on mine, all warm and beer flavored. His stubble rubs delightfully, making my lungs squeeze, and I'm immediately frantic for more of his smell on me.

I wrap my arms around him and lean back, pulling him with me. His weight is delicious. His kisses become harder, more urgent. I knot my fingers into his hair and push my chest against his. He moans and pushes his hand under my t-shirt. His fingers are gentle and tease me, moving near where I want them, but never touching, no matter how much I beg.

He smiles. "Patience," he murmurs against my mouth, while his index finger finally, _finally_ dances over my nipple. I groan. "We have all night."

"I know," I reply breathlessly. "But . . . I want you."

His head drops to the crook of my neck. "Jesus." His tongue snakes up my throat. "Shall we take this to the bedroom?"

"Please. Edward."

He stands. I can see he's hard; the crotch of his jeans tents with his arousal. The sudden desperate need to have him inside me, taking me, fucking me, crashes into me with no warning, stealing my breath, making my body weep.

"Oh, God," I whimper as I take his hand.

"It's all right," he soothes, holding me, keeping me together. "I'll have only what you're ready to give me, beautiful."

"Everything," I whisper into the skin of his neck. "I want to give you everything."

**Lellabeth and GeekChic rule. Fact.**

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	13. Chapter 13

**Enjoy…**

Edward's bedroom is exactly how I imagined. A large bed with black sheets dominates the space, while clothes of every description litter the floor or are scattered over every other piece of furniture. His carefree manner definitely manifests itself here. He immediately looks chagrined.

"Sorry," he says, pushing some pants and socks into a drawer. "I'm a messy bastard, I know." He shoves some shoes under his bed. "Hey, look at it this way. At least I didn't plan this."

I smile and put my hand on his arm, halting his last minute tidy up. "It's fine," I tell him. "Stop worrying."

His Adam's apple bobs as he moves closer. The infinite green of his gaze has my heart flying.

"Fuck," he growls. "I—I just . . ."

"What?"

He shakes his head as his eyes travel down my body. I clench and throb when they linger below my hips. "I want to touch you everywhere at once."

"Yes. That's what I want you to do too."

His mouth crashes against mine at the same time he fists the hem of my t-shirt and pulls it up and over my head. His hands splay across my stomach, then my back, up to my shoulders, into my hair and back down to my ass. I burn and writhe under his touch. I yank at his t-shirt, too and gasp when I see that his tattoos don't stop at his arms. They're across his chest and shoulders in intricate lines and swirls that make my mouth water. Unthinkingly, I start to lick the black ink next to his nipple. Edward's hands are instantly in my hair and his voice is hoarse.

"Yes," he breathes. "God, yes."

His pleasure has my hand at his crotch, rubbing what I'm desperate to have. He ruts against my palm and pulls my mouth back to his. He walks me backwards until we fall onto the bed. I open my legs and he slides between them. I cry out when he thrusts, and he pants my name when I do it back. He feels glorious above me, and I don't hesitate to help him when he starts to unfasten my jeans. With my Converse and socks removed, he pulls the denim from my legs and stands at the side of the bed, staring at me in nothing but my underwear.

I move my hands over myself, shifting under his stare, but he grabs my wrists and pushes them to the bed.

"Don't you dare cover up," he orders. "You're fucking gorgeous."

I lift my head to kiss him, but his mouth is already on my nipples, then my stomach, licking my belly button dipping into the band of my underwear. My hips gravitate towards him and, before I can beg him to, he's pulling the fabric off me, and burying his face between my legs.

His mouth.

_Oh, God_. His _fucking_ mouth.

I cry out and squirm as his tongue decorates my most intimate parts with laps of desire and heat. He feasts and hums his pleasure at giving me what I've been denied so many times by James. The tips of his fingers tease gently and push slowly, carefully into me causing my back to arch. I gasp his name, telling him I'm close already, telling him that no one has ever made me feel the way he does.

And then I'm blinded. I'm incoherent and shouting as I come. I come, and he moans. I come, and he laps more, licks more, begs me for more.

Smiling at the slumped mass of jellied bones on his bed, Edward crawls up my body, kissing and licking his way to my lips. Tasting me on him is extraordinarily erotic. I give him my tongue to suck and share what he's taken from me, and I finish getting him as naked as I am.

If I thought Edward was beautiful with clothes on, it's nothing compared to how he looks without. I stare, touch, and mumble nonsense as I explore every line, muscle crease, and inch of him. His skin is so soft under my fingertips. He has small hairs that punctuate his chest, and they tickle my nose as I explore that part of him with my mouth.

I breathe him in. "You smell so fucking good."

He grunts and grips my hips. "Baby, please."

And then I have his glorious cock in my mouth. His taste is sublime. He's so hard against my tongue, and he jerks every time I take him deep and bury my nose into the coarse dark hair between his hips.

"Oh. Oh, shit," he pants. I look up to see him gnawing on his bottom lip. "Want you so bad."

I pull my mouth slowly from his weeping cock. "How do you want me, Edward?"

"Every way," he answers. His cock twitches by my chin. "I want to be inside of you. I want to—oh, God. I want."

I straddle his waist and kiss him. We roll over and his hardness nudges where we're both desperate for him to be.

"Are you sure?" he asks me, nose to nose, holding my face.

"I've never been surer," I answer.

He retrieves what he needs from his side table drawer, and I watch, slack jawed, as he puts the condom on.

"Stunning," I whisper, knowing that, with one touch, he could make me come again.

My head snaps back into the pillows when he slides two wet fingers into me, touching and rubbing exactly where I need. He kisses and explores in ways I never imagined. When a third finger slips into my body, I beg him. I beg him to have me, to fuck me, to please, for the love of God, put it in.

Looking deeply into my eyes, he starts to push his perfect cock inside me. I groan and sigh and ask for more. I _need_ more of this man. I need him everywhere. He pushes further, deeper, and grunts into my mouth when, once he's all the way in, I wrap my legs around his waist.

"Okay?" he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Perfect," I tell him with kisses down his temple. "Move, Edward. Move in me."

And he does. He moves and thrusts and shoves deep inside. He groans with each snap of his hips, and I moan back when he begins to awaken parts of me that I thought were forever lost. We move together, arms and legs entwined, sweat fusing our bodies and skin slapping so beautifully I want to cry.

"Baby," he growls into my collarbone. "Oh, fuck, baby. I want to do this with you for the rest of my life."

And right then.

_Right then_.

I know I've fallen in love with Edward Cullen.

The realization shoves my orgasm deep into my belly. "Coming," I warn, tilting my hips and touching myself.

"Me too," he nods, watching my hand between us. He moves harder, faster, driving me into the mattress. "Look at you. _Fuck._ Oh, I'm coming so hard."

He bellows out my name, his thrusts messy and exquisite as he comes and comes inside me. I come with him, arching under his body, breathless and exhausted and irrefutably in love. He lies on me, squashing me, panting and beautiful, while softening and muttering how amazing I am.

"Incredible," he whispers. "You're incredible."

I kiss his sweaty forehead. "You're not too bad yourself there, Mister."

And then I laugh loudly at what a gross understatement that is.

**Much love to lellabeth and GeekChic for their help in making Beaches what it is.**

**Follow me on Twitter: sophiejax**

**Due to a family event, I will see you Sunday!**

**In the meantime, read this again. You know you want to.**

**TTFN xx**


	14. Chapter 14

**Annoying yet important A/N at the bottom…**

I wake Edward up before sunrise with my mouth on his half-hard cock. He sighs and breathes my name as he slips gradually from dream to awake. His flesh fills my mouth as he comes to, tasting of latex and cum.

"What are you doing to me?" he groans as he lifts his hips and finds the back of my throat. "Jesus, baby, you do that so good."

I smile, suck harder, flick him with my tongue and tease with my teeth. His tight balls fit in my palm, and I rub and massage them until he can barely speak. When I place my fingers behind them and push, he makes a sound that makes my body sizzle. I hum around his dick and watch as his neck elongates as his head presses into the pillows beneath it.

I tease and taste more, detecting the bitter clue that tells me Edward's getting closer. His mouth drops open in protest when I stop, but then he sees the condom in my hand and heaves a breath of relief. I roll it on his cock and crawl over him.

"Now it's my turn," I tell him and slowly envelop him with my body that is still lusciously pliable, wet and eager from our fucking not six hours before. Above him, I feel powerful, beautiful and loved. Three things that I never imagined I'd experience during sex. His eyes never leave my face as I situate myself on him. He whimpers and sighs and holds my hips still when I move too fast.

"Let me enjoy it. Slow down."

I kiss him as I move, gasping into his mouth when he hits me just right. His hands grip my waist, my ass, my face.

"Beautiful," he whispers. "So goddamn beautiful."

"Edward," I reply when his hand disappears between us so he can help me get there faster. And I do. Edward grunts and gasps as I come. He watches my face and smiles, as though it's the best thing he's ever seen.

And then he's rolling us so he's on top. I expect him to fuck me to within an inch of my life like he did last night, but his movements are languid, gentle, long and slow. His mouth fixes to mine, our tongues dance as our bodies do. It's the closest I've ever gotten to feeling like I'm being made love to, and it's indescribable. He's a perfect fit. I hold him tightly, drifting on the euphoria of love.

"Don't stop," I beg. "Never stop."

"Never," he says, staring deep into my eyes. "My God, how did I live without you?"

He comes with his face in my neck, shivering, moaning and shaking into me. I fall back asleep with him still inside me, and three little words balancing on the tip of my tongue.

I wake to a loud banging. I startle and grumble under the weight of Edward's arm and leg that he's tossed over me. The banging continues, and then I hear the dogs barking.

"What's that?" I ask, rubbing my face. It's only eight AM on a Sunday.

Edward pushes the covers back. "Probably one of the regulars. Dammit. They always forget shit." He leans over and kisses me. "Best be a good reason for me to leave you naked in my bed."

I openly stare as he pulls his jeans over his perfect bare ass and listen when he opens the apartment door, running down the stairs.

I exhale and stretch, loving the spongy sensation of my bones. I ache in places that make me smile, and the scent of Edward is all around me—

"You gonna make me?"

I sit up when I hear Edward's raised voice. I quickly grab his t-shirt and my underwear, unable to find where he threw my jeans in the mess that is his room, and make my way to the top of the stairs that lead to the back of the bar. I hear another voice, but all I can decipher is that it's a man.

"The fuck you will!"

The anger in Edward's voice has me hurrying. I skid into the bar area but come to a blinding halt when I see who's at the door of Black's, trying to push past Edward. My stomach drops to my feet as confusion and fear ripple through me.

"James."

**Right, let's get this over with:**

**Ambiguity is not about dishonesty or being deceitful.**

**I am not being manipulative or sneaky.**

**I have ****never**** labeled this fic.**

**Knowing this, you took a chance reading it as much as I took a chance writing it.**

**I ****never ****labeled this fic because I'm trying to do something different for my eternally supportive and intelligent readership.**

**Threatening to report my story and have it pulled because it isn't what **_**you**_** like or what **_**you**_** expect is beyond disgusting and exceedingly selfish to the hundreds of people who have embraced this story for what it is.**

**As a writer, I am free to write what I want. It's called artistic license.**

**If you don't agree with what you read, it's very, **_**very **_**simple.**

**Stop reading.**

**I will not pander to bullies or threats. There are more important things in life.**

**There are over 200,000 fics out there. I'm sure you'll find one suitable to your tastes.**

**Ninety-nine per cent of you understand this.**

**And, for that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.**

**Lellabeth and Geekchic—who have been with me from the beginning of this insane fic journey—I love you. **

**Follow me on Twitter: sophiejax**

**See you Tuesday!**

**TTFN xx**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks for all your words of support. They mean the world.**

"What are you doing here?"

I'm astonished when the words come. I'm standing stock still, eyes wide with panic and shock, looking at the man who smashed my heart to smithereens and the man who's helping me put it back together.

James looks like hell. He's disheveled and has a shadow under his right eye that looks suspiciously like the beginnings of a bruise.

He takes in my lack of undress and glances at Edward, whose glare is fixed on James' face. His eyes settle back on me. "I'm here to see you."

"The hell you are, asshole," Edward snaps, blocking the door. "Don't you have a wedding of convenience to plan?"

James' eyes flash with fury. "The fuck you say to me?"

I move when James does, pushing myself between them before fists start flying. "Look," I say, standing with my back against Edward. "Let's calm down here."

Edward's chest heaves against me. I want nothing more than to wrap him in my arms, back in his bed, away from the rest of the world. Away from James.

"Why are you here?" I repeat.

"Like I said," James replies. His expression is sad and tired. I've never seen him so not together. "I wanted—I _need_ to talk to you." He narrows his eyes at Edward over my shoulder. "Alone."

Edward shifts behind me. I turn to him, pleading with my hand on his chest. The tension in his shoulders doesn't leave, but his face softens when he looks at me.

"Are you sure?" he asks quietly. His thumb grazes my thigh. I take a deep breath and lick my lips. I have no words for him and hope that my squeezing his hand is reassuring enough. He sighs. "I'll be in the back." I close my eyes when he kisses my lips so softly I barely feel it.

Once James and I are alone, I gesture for him to enter. He moves around me, still looking at my bare legs. "Shouldn't you get dressed?" he says. His tone is sharp, almost . . . jealous?

"What the fuck are you doing here, James?" I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. "The last I heard you'd gotten engaged and you didn't give a shit about me—"

"I never said that," he interrupts. "I never said I didn't give a shit."

I scoff. Toma_y_to. Toma_h_to.

He runs his hands through his hair. "Can I get a beer?"

I think about arguing that it's not even nine AM on a Sunday, but there's no point. He looks like he needs one, despite smelling like a keg already. I grab him a beer and watch as he takes a seat at a small round table near the jukebox. I sit across from him, impatient and scared.

"James," I say in exasperation when he stays silent.

"I miss you."

I blink. Three words that I never imagined I'd hear from him echo around the bar. I swallow the lump of anger and bewilderment and sit forward. I can't comprehend that he's here. I don't understand his sudden need to be honest. "I—what?"

"We had the engagement party on Friday," he continues, tracing an invisible circle on the table. "Everyone was there." His eyes snap to mine. "Except you. You weren't there."

"I wonder why," I fume, hating the hope that blooms defiantly in my chest.

"I missed you. I wanted you there. I wanted—I wanted you with _me_." He shrugs. "I was in a room filled with people, and not one of them cares about me the way you do."

"That's all I am to you?" I spit. "Someone to feed your ego?"

"No!" he shouts. "No, I—fuck, I'm saying this all wrong." He rubs the heels of his hands against his temples. "I realized that, no matter what, you've always been there. You've been my best friend, my lover. You've given me so much. I had to see you to . . . to tell you that I get it." He eyes sear into mine. "I _get_ it now."

I shake off his words and the tears that threaten. "How did you know where I was?"

"I went to your brother's."

My mouth pops open. "You went to Emmett's? Are you nuts?"

James points to his bruised eye. "Clearly. He wouldn't tell me where you were, but I knew you'd come here, to the beach house. It's always been special to you. To us."

He's right. For a time, it _was _special to us. We'd spend weekends at the beach house, fucking and being together. Now I see that it was never about him spending time with me. It was about him using me. It was about him hiding me.

I rub my hands down my arms, feeling cold, missing Edward's touch. I'd never have to hide with Edward.

With him, I'm free.

"But how did you know I was _here_?" I ask, gesturing to the bar.

"I saw a guy on the beach, a big guy with a handle bar mustache. He told me you'd be here." I see his eyes snap towards the door behind the bar. "So what's the deal with . . . Edward?"

"None of your business," I retort.

James' shoulders deflate under my venom. "I know, I have no right to ask, but you said you loved me. Do you still?"

The million dollar question.

"Does it matter?" I ask quietly. "Would you leave her and your father's millions and take me home with you?"

"It's complicated."

"No, James," I hiss. "It's very uncomplicated. You used me. You hurt me. You lost me."

The truth of my words hits like a wrecking ball. No matter the love I thought I had for the shell of a man before me. No matter how long I've wanted, yearned, craved the words he now offers willingly. I no longer belong to him.

I belong now to Edward.

I belong now to myself.

"You made your choice, James."

I'm amazed when tears appear in his eyes. "Is Edward your choice?"

"I want him to be."

"You love him."

It's a statement, but my silence must say it all. He nods, looking defeated. The old me would have rushed to make him better, to fix him, to coddle and love, but now, I stare at him with sad indifference. He stands then, eyes still on the floor.

"I'm glad you're happy," he murmurs. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Never has James said those words to me, and hearing them is more painful than I could ever conceive. I watch him turn to leave. I watch my best friend, my lover, the man who held my heart for so long but never truly valued it, walk out of my life for the very last time.

I jump when Edward's hand touches my shoulder. I'm up off my stool and all but leap into his arms, crying angry, relieved tears.

"I _do_ love you," I whimper as he kisses my wet cheeks.

I cling to him, hating his quiet, praying that James hasn't shattered my chance to be happy. I don't know if Edward heard or what he heard of James' and my conversation. I just hope he hears me now. "I know it's not been long, I know. It's crazy, but it's true," I urge. "I've fallen in love with you, Edward."

He pushes my hair back, wipes my tears, and searches my face with wary eyes. I hold my breath and fist the waistband of his jeans, petrified that I've lost him.

"I do," I tell him. "I love you so much."

Finally, when he sees what he needs, the truth of my words in my eyes maybe, he smiles. "I love you too, beautiful."

**Two chapters to go.**

**Cuddles and kisses to lellabeth and GeekChic.**

**Follow me on twitter: sophiejax**

**See you Thursday!**

**TTFN (Ta ta for now!) xx**


	16. Chapter 16

**You. Yes, you. You're awesome. Keep that shit up.**

"Baby, relax," Edward murmurs in my ear. "It's going to be fine."

I fidget and rub my sweating palms down my jeans. I hum, unconvinced and pick up my drink to help with the horrendous dry throat that's been dogging me since we walked into the bar and grill.

Edward squeezes my other hand and smiles in a way that makes my heart fly. I put my drink down and sigh. He leans in and kisses me softly.

"I love you," he whispers. "And so will they."

"I hope so."

"Daddy!"

Edward's head snaps towards the door where a seven-year-old boy waves manically to get his attention. Edward stands when Ben sets off at a dead run towards us and scoops him up, kissing his son's cheeks and swaying from side to side. I stand too, adjusting my clothes, wishing that I'd gone with a more comfortable, less restricting ensemble.

"I missed you, daddy," Ben says, pushing Edward's cheeks together so he's pouting like a fish.

"I mished you, too," Edward replies. Ben collapses into giggles, and my chest constricts with how adorable they are together. "Where's your mama?"

"She's coming," Ben says dismissively when his eyes land on me. I smile softly. "Are you my daddy's friend?"

I nod. "Yeah," I answer. "We spoke on the phone, remember?"

He dips his head into Edward's shoulder, suddenly quiet and wary. I try not to let the disappointment consume me.

Edward winks at me. "Oh, come on now," he teases. "You're not shy, are you?"

Ben laughs when Edward tickles him.

"Sorry!"

I turn to see Angela approaching, apologizing profusely. She's a stunningly attractive woman, who makes the jeans and sweater she's wearing look elegant and expensive. I glance down at myself and exhale in despondency.

"I'm sorry we're late," she says, kissing Edward on the cheek. "Traffic was hell, and then I had to check on dad, and Lord, it's been chaos."

She looks at me and smiles a set of beautiful white teeth. I hold my hand out for her to shake. Angela laughs and grabs me in a huge hug. I stare at Edward over her shoulder, utterly lost for what to say or do. He shrugs unhelpfully and chuckles into Ben's hair.

"It's so good to finally meet you," Angela says. She steps back and looks me up and down. "He's told me so much about you, and none of it did you justice." She shoots him a playful glare.

"Whatever," Edward retorts with a small shake of his head.

"It's nice to meet you," I say, flustered.

"Honey," Angela whispers with sympathy in her dark eyes. "You look terrified."

I clear my throat and push my hands into my pockets. Why lie? "Yeah."

"We don't bite," she assures me. "Promise."

We sit down at our booth, Edward at my side and Angela and Ben opposite. We order our meals, and the conversation flows easily. I see for the first time how close Edward and Angela are. Their banter is that of brother and sister rather than lovers, but the affection between them is blatant. They include me when they tell their stories, and Angela continually asks about my work and my family. She's endearingly enthusiastic, and I gradually start to relax. That is, until Edward offers to take Ben out to the child play area outside the restaurant, leaving her and me alone. He kisses me soundly, stopping my protest.

"I don't know what it is you're doing, darlin'" Angela says, watching Edward and Ben wander out of the door. "But whatever it is, keep doing it." She turns to me and grins. "He's head over heels for you."

My face grows hot, and I play with the fries left on my plate. "The feeling's mutual."

"Oh," she laughs into her glass. "I can see that. You're so damned cute together."

I nibble my lip. "You don't think it's too fast?"

I think back to the conversation I had with my brother. Emmett was more than happy to express how stupid he thought I was for asking Edward to move in with me after knowing him only a couple of months.

Angela shakes her head. "When you know, you know. Screw what anyone else thinks." She watches me. "You're happy, right?"

I laugh. "Sickeningly."

She laughs. "There you go."

I smile at her warmth and honesty, the last bit of my anxiety slipping away. "I was so worried about today."

She sits forward, resting her forearms on the table. "Why?"

I shrug. "Because of the history you guys have, because of Ben."

"Does it bother you that Edward and I have a son?"

I blanche. "Of course not! I think it's great. Really."

Angela nods. "Edward and I were never going to work. He's the father of my child; I love him enormously but in a totally nonsexual way." She smiles. "I've found the other half of my heart in my husband, Alec."

She plays with the large diamond ring on her wedding finger before looking at me. "After Edward lost . . ." Her face becomes sad, wistful as the name I've heard so many times from Edward's past hovers around us. "Well, it's been too long for him, but I'm so happy he's finally found his other half in you."

I swallow down the emotion that blooms through me. "Thank you."

I startle when I hear my name being called. I look towards the door and see Ben approaching. My name on his lips makes me feel strangely protective of the small boy. Edward follows, watching his son with pride and adoration.

"Are you okay?" I ask Ben as he plops down next to me, his initial nervousness apparently forgotten.

"Are you a vet?"

I glance at Edward before I nod. "Yeah, I am. My new practice will be in town."

"You fix animals?"

"I do my best."

"Daddy said you have a dog." His small feet kick at the side of the booth seat. "Dogs are my favorite."

I smirk at his bluntness. "Dogs are my favorite too. My dog's a husky. He's called Sam."

Ben's green eyes shoot to his mother before they find my face again. "Daddy says that we could go to the beach and walk Ozzy and your dog and that, if I ask nicely, I can hold your dog's leash."

I stifle a laugh at his eagerness. "That sounds like an awesome idea. Sam will love you."

I freeze when his small hand touches mine for the briefest of moments. "He won't be scared of me?"

"Not at all."

He considers this for a second. "Okay." He looks at Edward. "Can we go now?"

Edward chuckles and glances in my direction. "That all right?"

"Sure," I reply, reaching for his hand. "I can't think of anything better."

**Snogs to lellabeth and GeekChic for being amazeballs.**

**Just the epilogue to go now.**

**Follow me on twitter: sophiejax**

**See you Saturday!**

**TTFN xx**


	17. The Epilogue

**The Epilogue…**

I'm exhausted when I arrive at Black's.

It's been a killer day. The practice is fantastically busy, which is great, but I want nothing more than to get out of my work gear, grab a glass of something alcoholic, and cuddle up with my man. I frown when I notice Leah behind the bar and not Edward. She smiles when she sees me.

"He said he was working tonight," I say, glancing around. I was so looking forward to a kiss.

"Yeah," she replies, placing a draft beer in front of Mike who salutes me. "He said he needed to go home to pick something up, something important. He said to tell you to meet him there."

"He did?"

She nods and her smile widens. I narrow my eyes at her playfully, knowing that I'm missing something. She lifts her shoulders innocently.

"Okay." I let her off the hook. "How's the baby?"

"Jacob's good," she replies. "He's _almost_ walking." She shakes her head in wonder. "I can't believe he's one in a few days."

"I know. Time's flying by."

It seems only yesterday that I first wandered into Black's. I smile at the memory.

"You and Edward are still coming to the party, right?"

"Of course. A first birthday party? We wouldn't miss it." I knock my knuckles on the bar. "Well, I guess I'll go home and find out what Edward's up to. I'll see you later."

Mike and Leah shout after me in unison: "Have fun!"

The beach house is in darkness when I arrive, exacerbating my confusion. I call out for Edward and the dogs, but get no response from either. I hang up my coat and walk through the house, turning on lights as I go, illuminating pictures on the walls of Edward and I. Some of them show us on vacation, some are with Ben, some show us with the many friends we are so fortunate to have. I pause for a moment and smile, as I look at our beaming faces, breathing in, once again, just how damned blessed I am.

I notice the French windows, which lead down to the decking and the beach, are wide-open, filling the room with the luscious sound of waves and summer wind.

"Edward?"

I peer through the windows to see a line of twinkling tea light candles winding from the door, down towards the sand. I follow them with my eyes, and startle when I notice Edward standing within a circle of them, dressed in a black suit and white open neck shirt. The dogs sit at his side, tongues lolling, tails wagging.

He smiles at me. "Hey baby."

"What's going on?" I ask, making my way towards him. "I thought you were at the bar."

The candle light dances and flickers over him, highlighting his high cheekbones and perfect mouth. He looks devastatingly sexy, and I immediately feel underdressed.

"How was your day?" He ignores my question and asks his own. "I missed you."

My stomach clenches. "I missed you, too, sweetheart." I finally reach him and look around at all the beautiful candles. "This is so pretty. What's going on?" I smile when he takes a step closer and kisses me. It's a soft kiss but it promises more, craves more, and leaves me hot.

"I love you," he whispers against my mouth.

"I love you, too," I reply. "So much."

"Do you remember that day on the beach, the day we met?"

I nod. "How could I forget? You stole my breath away."

He cups my face and rests his forehead against mine. "I think I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you."

I grasp the lapel of his suit jacket. "Edward."

"You were so broken when I found you, so timid, and unaware of just how spectacular and strong you are." A tear falls from my eye when Edward drops to one knee. "I was broken, too. I never thought I'd be happy again, but you gave me love and hope." He pulls out a small box from his pants pocket and opens it. "And I want to spend the rest of my life thanking you in every way I can."

The ocean air whips the breath from my lungs. "Oh God."

The ring inside the box is gorgeous. The stones within the platinum sparkle and flare in the candlelight.

"You own every part of me, beautiful," Edward murmurs, staring up at me with love and adoration. "My body, my soul, my heart. I want to make a life with you, my best friend, and enjoy every day of it. Will you marry me?"

"Yes," I whisper, "With all my heart, yes."

He slips the ring onto the third finger of my left hand, and I know I'm finally home.

**Can I say a massive thank you to everyone who has reviewed, RT'd, PM'd or posted about this fic. In four years of writing in this fandom, I have never experienced a reaction like it. Your continuous passion inspires me. Cheers.**

**Now I can tell you, this fic was never about gender, race, or sexual orientation. It was about love. It was about making you, the reader, think, and enjoy the idea of not knowing who the narrator was.**

**It wasn't about trickery or manipulation, as some suggested. Some of you liked it and embraced the mystery, some of you didn't, and that's okay. I realize I can't please everyone. I just wanted to try something different.**

**I always had my own character in mind when I wrote this fic, I know who I want it to be on that beach, and I'm sure you have yours.**

**The point is, it ****doesn't**** matter. It never did.**

**You can have whomever you want to have their happy beach house proposal ending: Bella, Jasper, Rose, Carlisle…**

**That's what matters. **

**Many of you understood my intent, and I appreciate your encouragement and lovely words more than I can express. I'm so happy that you enjoyed the journey.**

**Many of you still have questions; the clues are in the fic.**

**Find them and create the characters and their backstory. It's all up to you.**

**Huge love and thanks to lellabeth and GeekChic for their love, support and for talking me off the ledge when things got hairy. You're awesome.**

**Follow me on twitter: sophiejax**

**TTFN xxxx**


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